iFell For You
by Neon-GreenShoeLaces
Summary: Carly Shay has always had a soft spot for one boy, even if she didn't show it. It takes another girl for her to finally come to terms with her feelings, but is she too late? Ciddy/Background Seddie.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own iCarly. If I did, Creddie wouldn't exist.

"_Oh come on, Gibby's sweet, and cute, and fun, and…" Sam and__Freddie looked at me incredulously. _ _"There's gotta be_ _something wrong with that chick," I lied, agreeing with my friends._

That was a few hours ago, right after a special iCarly. Freddie had successfully proven that he hadn't tried to kiss Tasha, Gibby's girlfriend, after a mishap that made her fall on top of him. After Gibby had taken Tasha back, they had walked off hand in hand. I could feel my face flush, and my heart was heavily filled with envy.

"Carls, you okay?" Sam asked, tossing a pillow at my head, removing me from my thoughts. She was sprawled out on the coffee table in front of the television, with the colorful flashes of _Girly Cow_ reflecting off of her body.

"Peachy," I responded, tossing the pillow right back. "What's this episode about, anyway?" I laughed, pointing at the screen.

"Girly Cow and Manly Bull are dating but Girly Cow keeps flirting with Gnarly Duck," Freddie absent-mindedly reported, his eyes fixated on the screen. Sam and I gaped at him- he was actually watching it? I wasn't even paying attention.

"What? I watch it for the graphics!" he defended himself. Sam smirked at him, and catapulted the pillow towards his stomach. "Oof," he whispered, gulping and standing up.

"Aww, did I hit Fwedwad too hard?" Sam laughed, standing up as well. As Freddie walked around the couch to "regain feeling in his gut", Mrs. Benson ran through the door.

"Freddie! Are you hurt? I heard you cry for help!" she wailed, dragging her twenty pound "portable" first aid kit through the door.

"Mo-om! I'm fine!" he shook off the intrusive prods from his mother, his face flushing furiously.

"Good, good," she accepted that answer. She glanced down at her watch. "Oh, we need to go. Right now!" she grabbed Freddie's arm and pulled him out the door.

"What? Why?" he screeched, trying to stop his involuntary transfer.

Mrs. Benson tried to lower her voice. "If a boy wants respect from his peers, he has to let Mommy wash his ears." This was followed by sniggering from Sam and me. It's not that I didn't respect Freddie- I did. Sam clearly didn't, but I couldn't help but laugh at Mrs. Benson's antics. She meant well, but she did it in a way that could only produce hilarity, unfortunately at Freddie's expense.

I heard him protest, "Aw, Mom, come on!" as to which she simply repeated the rhyme. Freddie grumbled and acknowledged us an angry good bye.

"Well Carly, I'm going to sleep," Sam yawned and went toward the door.

"You're going home?" I asked, shocked. Sam barely went home anymore. She basically lived with Spencer and me.

"Hell no," she bluntly retorted. "I'm locking the door to make sure Benson doesn't decide to come back in. Momma's sleeping on the couch in a little tank top, and Momma don't want him walking in on me and my boobs."

I had to laugh at that one. It was no secret, even though Sam never passed up an opportunity to insult Freddie, that she loved him. And he loved her too. Gibby and I had often spent lunch periods watching them playfully fight and subtly flirt. We knew we had to get them together.

A lot of other people can't see Freddie and Sam together. But opposites attract, you know? She's just the right amount of aggression and mischief for him, and he's the perfect blend of nerd and sarcasm for her. There's a whole forum on our site for the 'Seddie' fans. I'm personally glad 'Creddie' has lost its popularity. After Freddie saved my life and we dated…and then broke up because of the bacon concept… he had adamantly stopped crushing on me, which was a relief, because I didn't know how much more of it I could tolerate. I just wanted to slap him and say, "Stop it, you nub! I love Gibby! And unless you decide to become him, there's no way we can ever be together!"

I don't really know why I didn't go for it earlier. We've known each other forever. He was my first best friend, way before I met Sam. We were in the same day-care…

_"Hi!" said the shirtless boy, approaching me as I toyed with the blocks on the rug._

_ "Why aren't you wearing a shirt?" I shrieked. I was staring up at his stomach rolling over his pants. I smiled as I zoomed in right below his belly button. "And that's a cute birthmark," I commented, poking it. "It looks like a meatball."_

_ "I know, right?" he exclaimed, giving me a high-five. "I'm Charles Gibson, Gibby for short."_

_ "I'm Carly Shay, just call me Carly," I responded. "Want to play blocks?" I asked, passing him a red one._

_ "How'd you know my favorite color was red?" he questioned, his eyes growing wide. _

_ "I don't know! It's a pretty color!" I mumbled. I wasn't going to tell him I had spied on him and Freddie when they finger painting. Freddie had scribbled out a robot, and Gibby's was a meatball, covered in sauce._

_ "True dat!" he beamed. "It's the color of meatballs!" _

_When I met Sam a few years later, Gibby was left behind. But my feelings for him grew, especially because I was admiring from afar. Which is kind of hot. _

"You want any of this pork roast?" Sam yelled from the kitchen. "It's kind of hot," she warned, putting some on a plate for me.

"Like Gibby," I sighed, dreamily.

She stopped her scooping and stared at me. "What?" she yelped. "Carls, what the fuck?"

I stuttered, trying to find a cover. "He's like a pork roast, not hot!" I shoved her off of me, laughing. "Ew, Sam!"

"Oh, good. You had me worried there for a sec," she giggled along with me. She passed me the roast. "Here. Eat. Enjoy. Be one with the pork," she instructed monotonously, waving a chunk of meat in front of me on a fork. As I reached out to bite it off of her utensil, she quickly shoveled it into her own mouth, smirking. "Momma don't share her food," she reminded me.

Soon after we finished pigging out and the _Girly Cow_ marathon ended, which was around 2 AM, Sam and I passed out on the couch. We woke up in the morning, to the sound of Spencer singing while flipping pancakes.

"Pancakes! Pancakes! Flippin' pancakes! One and two and blue and strawberry! Pancakes! I like pancakes! Carlotta does too! And Sam and Freddie-oo! And pro'lly Gib-ay!

"Hey!" I shouted, resulting in Sam bolting upright. "Shut up about pancakes!"

"You can't make me!" Spencer replied, starting on another verse.

"Panqueques?" Freddie asked, waltzing in through the door. He stared at Sam, with her hair all disheveled and her shirt pulled up a bit too much. "Uh, uh, uh…" he stammered, trying to look away but failing. At least I had some decency at the moment.

"Relax Benson, it's just boob," she mumbled, pulling her shirt down. I knew she was trying to play it cool, but her cheeks were too red to ignore.

"Sam, you're my little sister. No more boob talk until I leave," Spencer commanded. Sam apologized, shockingly. Sam doesn't usually apologize. She probably agreed with Spencer, she didn't want Freddie thinking about her boobs. Wait, yes she did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own iCarly. If I did, Creddie wouldn't exist.

We finished breakfast, and since it was the weekend, we discussed plans. Sam and I agreed that a trip to Build-a-Bra was long overdue, and the guys decided to spend the day watching _Galaxy Wars_.

When we got there, I immediately wanted to leave. Standing in front of the 34C wall was Tasha. I gripped Sam's arm and whispered, "I dropped my contact outside." She gave me a look.

"You don't wear contacts," she reminded me, thumping my forehead.

"Ow!" I cried, rubbing the spot where a bruise would soon form. I suppose I should have been quieter, because Tasha turned around and ran towards us.

"Hi, you guys!" she sang out. Ugh, she was so pretty. Her chestnut brown hair was perfectly curled, and her light blue skirt hit just above the knee, exposing her long, tanned legs. It was disgusting. She was bra shopping, for Pete's sake! She didn't need to look hot unless-

"Is Gibby with you?" I blurted. Then I immediately regretted it. I had just called her out to be a slut- bra shopping with her boyfriend! What's wrong with me?

Luckily, Tasha just laughed. "Nah, he just dropped me off," she explained. She gestured me to come closer. Sam had gone to check out the "Industrial Bra: For the tough girl." Go figure.

"Listen, tonight I think I'm going to go to second base with Gibby," she told me in a hushed tone. My heart dropped twenty stories. I heavily sighed, trying to hold back tears.

"Oh! Congrats, I guess," I murmured. It should be me telling her about my plans with Gibby.

"Yeah, so I want to start with a new bra, to surprise him. I was wondering if you could help me find the right one?" she asked me, without any hint of embarrassment.

"Me?" I asked in disbelief. "I'm not a bra-saleswoman or a bra-expert. Why me?" Did she really think I'd help her get farther with the man I loved? Oh god, I just admitted I loved Gibby…and that he was a man.

"Because you have great boobs," she complimented me, pointing at them. I gave her a look.

"Oh, thanks, but um…wait what?" I yelped, confused.

"Carly, listen to me. I need your help. Are you going to do it?" she was getting impatient. Suddenly I had an idea. It was a Sam Puckett idea, and boy, she'd be proud.

"Sure. Here, go find a dressing room and I'll go around looking for the perfect one. You're 34C, right?" I brightly asked. She nodded. "Great! See you in a bit!

I darted to the back of the store in no time. I had told Sam I'd be spending some time with Tasha. She was excited, because I gave her some money to go to get some ribs from a shop a block away. "Tasha?" I called.

"Third down, left side!" she responded. I knocked on the orange door. The low lights had given it a tan glow. "Come in!" she encouraged me. I turned the knob and quickly shut the door again.

"Carly? What's wrong?" she questioned, concerned.

I was losing sense of speech. "Uh, uh, you're uh, not wearing a- a bra," I whispered the last part. She broke out laughing.

"So? We're all girls here!"

I apprehensively opened the door. "Oh god," I uttered. And there they were, the boobs Gibby would be touching that night.

As a straight girl, I can't say much. I mean, they were nice- er, not that I was attracted to her or them. Just the average big boobs, I guess. Round. Oh boy, this is getting awkward. "Here, "I pushed the first one into her hands. "Try this."

She examined it closely, holding the thin red material in her hands. "It's a B cup," she announced.

"Yeah…" I replied. "You've never read the Girl's Guide to Bra Shopping, Fashion edition?" I asked, feigning shock. She shook her head.

"Oh, well, to get a man's attention, wear a bra a bit too small to enhance the size and relieve tension!" I made up, praying she would go along with me. I was whispering, "Please be dumb, please be dumb, please be dumb."

Tasha nodded and put on the bra. The sight was hideous. It was much too small. It wasn't even slightly attractive. Her veins were pulsing.

"Sorry, Carly, but I look gross. I can't even get this off. Can you help me?" I hesitantly unclasped it, and the girls bounced out again. I thrust another one, hoping this would be the one to complete my plot.

She studied it. "What's with the clasp?" she inquired.

"Oh," I laughed. "It's all the rage. It's like a padlock. You set it to something your lover should know," I poked her in the ribs lightly. "Like your birthday. If you're wearing it and not planning on taking it off with help, just hit the button under the left strap. It opens it." I explained. The bra was truly a work of art.

"That's awesome!" she cheered. It wasn't too expensive for a high tech bra, only thirty dollars. And I knew Tasha had to money.

As Tasha rummaged through her clothes looking for her own undergarment, I muttered, "Should I leave?"

"No," she commanded, her voice suddenly deepening. She sat me down on the bench. She was now half dressed, well, not wearing a shirt, but it was better than nothing. "Thanks for helping. And I think I should reward you," she suggested, her face inches from mine.

"That's not necessary, really." I tried to get away, but she sat on my lap. "Tasha, what the hell?"

To my surprise and horror, she embraced me for a passionate kiss, her body and mine like one. I immediately retreated. "What? You're dating Gibby! I'm not a lesbian!" I freaked out, eagerly pushing her off.

"Just shut up, Shay. I need this," she asserted. She kissed me again, this time jamming her tongue down my throat. She took my hands and traced them along her slim torso, stopping at her bra. "Feel," she whispered. I dropped my hands immediately, attempting to turn my face so she only attacked my face. She had taken a moment to breath, so I saw my chance.

"You're a whackjob!" I screamed. "How could you do this to Gibby?"

"What?" She so innocently egged me on.

"You-you and me, we're not happening! I'm _straight!_"

"And I'm not! Well, I like Gibby but I like you more."

"Are you even planning on getting there with Gibby? Was this just a plot to get me all in lesbians with you?" I snarled, picking up my bag and walking to the door.

"No, Carly! Come back!" But I kept on walking. Soon enough Tasha would get what she deserved. My plot was bound to work. She was horny, and it was sick. I walked right out of Build-a-Bra and slammed into Sam.

"Hey, where's Tasha?"

"Probably doing something nasty in the dressing room," I jeered. Sam gaped at me.

"What?" Sam was jumping up and down and flailing. I smirked.

"That _whorebag_ was all over me!" I shouted, wiping my lips. And after hearing her cue, she strolled out the door with her special bra.

"Hey guys! You want to get lunch?" she politely invited us. Sam and I turned to walk away, but she pulled Sam back. "I think you'll want to meet me for lunch," she growled.

We ran down the street, and didn't look back.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly. Not yet. (Just kidding Dan!)**

I was pacing back and forth in the iCarly studio. Freddie and Sam were right on my heels. "Oh god, what am I going to do?"

"Wait, tell me again, what exactly did Tasha do?" Freddie asked for the billionth time. Sam punched his arm so forcefully that he fell down onto the floor with a bang.

"Ow!" he yelled, clutching his shoulder. "What was that for?" he shouted while blinking back tears.

"Ugh, sorry," Sam rolled her eyes and reached out a hand to help him up. Freddie eyed her suspiciously, and grabbed it. Fully supporting him, she dropped him again. "Whoops I slipped. Don't be a pervert!" she grinned maliciously.

I groaned. "Seriously? What am I going to do? Tasha, Gibby's _girlfriend_ made out with me! Topless! In a dressing room! At Build-a-Bra!" I turned my attention to Sam. "You!" I snarled.

She looked behind her, then pointed at herself. "Me? What the fuck did I do? I didn't force her on you!" she shouted at me, and took a step closer, intimidatingly.

"You had to have a craving for ribs! Ribs, ribs, ribs! Not bras? If you had been hungry for a bra, we wouldn't be in this mess! I wouldn't have touched girl boobs!" I cried, flopping down into a beanbag chair.

"You touched her boobs?" Freddie piped up, with a big smile on his face. "Score!" he went to high five me, then retreated. "Pretend that didn't happen," he mumbled, staring at his black sneakers.

Sam pushed him over, ignoring his gross remark. "Dude, you can't eat a bra. And besides," she added, smiling, "would you have rather touched Gibby's boobs? He's a jiggling potato!" she cackled. Freddie joined in. I shot them both death glares.

"He is not! He's definitely lost weight!" I replied, defending him. I crossed my arms over my chest adamantly. I wasn't going to let them treat Gibby like that, even if that meant exposing my secret.

Sam moaned and started walking toward the elevator. "I'm going to get something to eat. Carly, either forget about it, or tell Gibby. If you forget about it, they could be happy together. Or not. If you tell him, he'll either hate you or her. I'd forget about it. It makes you seem more innocent." She pressed a button and descended through the floors.

Freddie sat down in front of me. I looked up at him. "How long has it been?" I quickly turned from him. I stared at the floor, at the monitor, anywhere but his eyes. They said something, like he knew that I liked Gibby.

"What do you mean?" I whispered, praying he didn't detect the fear in my voice. I glanced at him. He was just Freddie, the guy next door. We've been friends for years. I've never had a problem confessing my love for other boys before, so why was it so difficult now? I wasn't ashamed of my crush…

"How long have you been in love with Gibby?" he replied calmly. It bugged me. It was like we were discussing the next iCarly or how Mrs. Briggs had boobs shaped like torpedoes.

But the thing that got to me the most was that he knew. How long has he known? Did he tell anyone? What did he think of it? Was I stupid for it? Was he jealous? I realized he was still waiting for me to answer, so patiently, so content.

"The second I saw Tasha," I confessed. I turned to him. "How did you know?" I was astounded at how he figured it out. Sure, I was dropping hints, but Sam didn't realize anything.

"Ah. Tasha, the ticking time bomb," he commented. "Carly, I may be a guy, and therefore stupid in your mind," I shook my head at this. He knew I understood how smart he was. "But I am your best friend," he shot me a small grin. "So it's Gibby who gets you going, huh? I would have never expected it."

"Shut up!" I begged, lightly swatting his shoulder. "I don't get it. Why would I be so in like with him if I know he has a girlfriend?" Since Freddie already knew, and was being so great, I figured I had nothing to lose in opening up.

"Carly, you're a girl. Girls want what they can't have." He simply stated. God, when did Freddie learn so much about the female mind? He was perfectly right. I was so attracted to Gibby because he had a cute girlfriend, and it could have easily been me.

"Wow. Thanks, Freddie," I smirked at him and tousled his hair.

"For what?" he questioned, fixing the mess I had created.

"Putting things in perspective. Hey, I'm going to go stop Sam from eating my fridge too, you coming?" I stood up and started walking to the door.

"Sure, but you might be too late." He laughed, following me.

"You're probably right," I agreed. "You've been right about a lot of things today."

**A/N: I promise, Creddie isn't happening in this story. Maybe another, just to try it out...**

**If you could, please suggest this to your friends! I really want my writing to become more popular! Forgive me for sounding like a dorkette :P. And to ask for even more than I should get, can you review? I love reviews!**


	4. Chapter 4

It had been nearly a month since my encounter with Tasha, and I had decided to put it behind me. Even if I couldn't have Gibby, I still wanted him to be happy, regardless if it was with that slut.

"Spencer," I called, walking through the door with Sam, Freddie, and Gibby, (Tasha-less!) behind me. "We're home!"

"Good, I would have been worried if I could hear you from Cancun or something," he scratched his head. "And I'd also be very impressed."

We all laughed, but Gibby chuckled the hardest. "Ah, Cancun, such a knee slapper," he cried, flopping down on my sofa. I joined him while Sam went to go make popcorn and Freddie checked in with his mom.

"So," I began, sipping my ice tea. "How's Tasha?"

"Can I be honest with you?" he asked, gazing into my eyes. God, he was so perfect. I didn't care if he was a bit pudgy or socially awkward. He was going to be mine someday, and by the looks of it, someday was today.

"Of course," I replied, lowering my voice. Guys found that sexy, right? I put my hand across his and smiled.

Flashes of color popped into his cheeks. "I've been doing some serious thinking," he started.

"Good," I coaxed. "Weigh all your options."

"And I have to say, she's different. I'm different. We're no longer the same," he explained.

Oh God, this was it. He finally loved me back. We'd be Mr. and Mrs. Gibson, have three kids, and a beach house. We'd grow old together and wake up happily.

He cleared his throat, pushing away my dreams. "I think I love her," he confided sheepishly.

"What?" I shrieked. Sam looked over with a puzzled expression.

"Congrats kid, Tasha's great," Sam winked at me. "Really great."

"Yeah. So you think I should tell her?" he inquired to Sam.

"For sure. Girls love that sappy crap," she concluded, dropping down on the couch between us. "Even I do. All chicks just want a guy to hug them behind the waist, kiss their noses, and offer a sweatshirt."

Dammit Sam, why do you have to feed him information? I know she doesn't know I love Gibby, but she's basically making Tasha fall in love with him even more. God, they'll have ugly tramp babies and I'll be alone eating ice cream from the tub covered in cat hair from my eight cats.

"Is this true, Carls?" he asked me, beaming. And there it was, I needed to make up my mind.

Sadly, I answered back, "Sure is."

He swung his bag over his arm and walked out the door. "Later," he bumped into Freddie on his way out.

"Where's Gibby going?" Freddie questioned, carrying a bag. "I have a bag full of…stuff…in it."

Sam rolled her eyes and lunged for the bag.

"Ointment?" she cackled, spilling the tubes and containers all over the floor. I smirked at Freddie's dorkiness, but I wasn't really in a mood to laugh.

"What's her problem?" he asked the blonde, who shrugged back.

"Dunno. Gibby's going to tell Tasha he loves her though," Sam informed him, sitting down on the floor again, reading an ointment label. "Dude, this is tooth paste. There's fluoride."

"Oh," Freddie raised his eye brows and gave me a sympathetic glance. "Shut up, I don't examine all the tubes like my mom does."

Crap, my angst was written all over my face. "I'm fine, just tired. Howard gave me a report for wearing a turtle neck," I lied, rolling my eyes. I just leaned back on the cushion, sulking and pouting, until Sam thought I was too boring and Freddie was tired of my frown.

I needed to get out of this. I needed a new target. But who?


End file.
